Twenty Years Before And After

Had I not been in this profession, I would not have experienced such a remarkable event that taught me how we should look at everything in this world.

It was twenty years back from right now when one Sunday evening I was in a relaxed mood watching TV lying in a half laid posture on the bed, one of my childhood friends came as a routine visit to my house with an offer for tuition. Until this date, in the course of my entire journey as a teacher, most of the offers came from him. He was not only generous but his sensibility saved my family many times. Although the movie grabbed my full attention, I could not ignore him because of his pleasant personality.

'Sorry, perhaps I interrupt you from TV watching but I have an offer for you if you have time now, I can explain that.'

'Sure, please carry on.' I answered him showing a concerned attitude towards him switching off the TV set.

'As I know you for a long time, you don't have prejudice to teach a Muslim student.'

'No, not at all. A teacher should not have such prejudice.'

'Good, then I can tell you more about him. Rafiqul Islam is the name of this boy who is a student of class six in the Calcutta Boys School under ICSE board and his parents wish you to teach him in their house. It is not very far from you.

If you are interested, I request them to visit you once for a face to face conversation.'

Without any hesitation, I assured him, 'I would also visit them. Tell me their address or we can settle it over the telephone.' My assurance made him glad.

A week later, when everything was fixed over a telephonic conversation, I set out for the first visit to their house making an appointment with them. When I was walking through one of narrow, congested lanes of Taltola towards their house, still confusion somewhere works in my subconscious about an unfamiliar environment that I am going to experience for the first time.

It was a medium-sized apartment. They welcomed me like a special guest. A little confusion was working in their behavior as they received a Hindu teacher in their house the first time. I did not find any such material in the room that could be the evidence of Muslim house, apart from a square frame in which some sort of Shariat was written in the Urdu language, was hanging on the opposite wall. However, slowly I was coming out of the preoccupied hesitation of religious barrier and the virtual idea of cultural practices that had been planted on the soft soil in my mind since birth like a legacy.

'Namaste sir,' they almost pronounced together. 'Please meet your student.' They pushed forward their eleven years old son and again I found my son in him. He was looking at me with scary and innocent eyes as if a monster sitting before him.

'Hello beta, don't need to be frightened. I am your friend. What is your name?'

'Rafiqul Islam'. He answered in flimsy voice.

Finishing the formal conversation with his parents, I left their house. Before that, I realized, our conversation made them satisfied.

Therefore, my journey with the new student began enthusiastically. I taught him English and SST. English was divided into two parts, literature and language where SST had three parts, History, Geography and civics. Despite he was an average student, his diligence won him class promotion every year.

Meanwhile, when Rafiqul was in class ix, one evening his father came to me and grabbed my both hand and said, 'Sir, we don't have much expectation in life. We are longing for his minimum achievement so that he would be able to pick up at least his own burden. Being, a middle-class father maybe I won't be able to afford for the higher education, ……….' His voice chocked. Lowering the head, he paused for a moment. It was as if a prolonged and unreleased pain struck in his throat. Being a father, I could realize his impuissance and said, 'Please, don't be upset. He is doing well. And I assured you, I will be with him until he would get a secured life.' Then he threw a fragile look at me filled with tears as if the grief that had been frozen for a long time was melting now. Then what he said that was enough for me to be greatly shocked. His feeble voice uttered again with an unknown scare, 'I may have lung carcinoma- lung cancer.'

`What!'

`Yes, it is suspected.'

As I could not find language to console him, kept a tender touch on his soldier.

But, later, a medical report revealed, he had no such deadly disease but acute congestion in the chest.

Future is always unpredictable. Nobody knows his destiny.

As time went on, I was ageing like the daily drifting sun. Day by day, slowly, the world before me was being blurred. After passing out ICSE, Rafiqul took admission in the same school.

When he was in class xi, one day, my vision had gone off completely and I became blind. Because of that, I had to stop going to teach him. My life was confined in limitless darkness and I started practicing to develop my perception to find out the things that I needed immediately with the help of an imaginary circle around me and every two-three days later my effort was to make the circle bigger. Bigger the circle means bigger the perception. I could achieve the ability to percept more I could strengthen my power to find everything myself without anybody's help. This theory helped me to move alone even in road traffic. Though a pair of my eyes left me, other sense organs were being impelled every moment. However, I had had a new companion – a stick. I must be grateful to it. My power of imagination got momentum. I could sense more than earlier. Most of the time, I belonged in solitary. A man came twice a week for reading the world classics and other literary works of great men and with his every visit, I used to enrich my perception. Sometimes, instead of reading, he wrote what I dictated. It was not very comfortable for me to dictate someone. If I could write myself, I could replace a word or a sentence as many time as I wished. Sometimes I felt, maybe, I was humiliating someone. As a result, it caused an interruption in mind of flowing thoughts and ideas affluently. Most of the time it made me dissatisfied because I could not use my repertoire. A feeling of despair often filled my mind. I stopped thinking of story writing.

One day, my wife bought a radio set for me because TV was of no use to me. In this way, I spent many nights of twenty-four hours in my world, Where Sun never rose. Since I could not do any household jobs like bill payments, marketing, etc, my wife had to take the extra workload. Most of the time, my son had to stay busy in the architectural job. I could hardly endure being a disabled person in the family any more. One day, a thought sparkled in my mind and at once, I shared it with my wife and son. Why I would not try to have a chance for eye replacement. Soon after, my son, finding a convenient time, went to an eye specialist along with my wife and returned with a positive possibility though it depended on the availability of eye donor. So, we had to make regular contact with an eye-bank. A week later, one evening, the phone rang suddenly. I picked up the receiver, 'Hello.'

'May I speak to Mr Debasish Dey?'

'It's me'

'Sir, I am calling from the Central eye bank'. As soon as the other end uttered the word eye bank, I felt a gust of wind rushed into the room through the windows.

'Yes, please.'

'Sir, I have urgent information for you that some Maidul Islam has passed away last night and before his death, he has donated his eyes to you. Corneas have been removed already and they should be transplanted within three-four days. You should make a decision immediately and inform us as early as possible.

Please, note down our contact number, zero three…..' It was so shocking that I sat transfixed in my chair for few minutes and when I could not understand what I should do, I called my wife and son both for an urgent discussion. That evening I was admitted to the nearest nursing home.

Now I can see everything as I could earlier. Meanwhile, twenty years have passed. I keep in touch with Rafiqul regularly. Rafiqul and his wife often visit my house or vice versa. These twenty years valued me greatly. I have learnt a lot in life. I never wanted to be a teacher because a teacher always holds head high and cannot look at the surface where his past is graved. I worship the past as that teaches me to develop a sense to recognize right or wrong in life.

Again, I started teaching my students. Now every day, the sun rises again in my world. That dark world is now illuminated with the light of new perception. With the progression of time, I revalue it every moment hoping to be enlightened one day. Twenty years ago, my eyes were of a Muslim person and now they became Hindu. The orthodox idea of religion does not make any sense for them. They are now free for conveying this message to all, live and let others to live in peace.